Author: Tracy Wolff

“Yes.” She tugged on his hair, tried to pull his mouth back down to hers. It had been a long time since she’d been held like this, longer still since her body had reacted like this.

Since Quinn, she realized with a jolt. She hadn’t felt this hot, this turned on, since the last time—the only time—Quinn had made love to her. It was a shocking revelation, one that shook her to her core.

The shock must have been reflected on her face, because Quinn suddenly looked a lot more concerned. “What’s wrong, Elise? Do you want to stop?”

His hands went to her waist, and he pulled up on her, as if he was going to put her away from him. But that was the last thing she wanted, to lose this chance to be with Quinn when it might be the only one she’d ever have. Or at least the only one for another ten years, if their past history was anything to go by.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him closer and pressed frenzied kisses over his hot cheeks and down his stubbled jaw. “No, don’t stop. Please. Don’t stop.”

She was frantic at the thought of losing this small part of him that he was willing to give her and she started pushing at his shirt, tugging at it, in an effort to get closer to him. In an effort to convince him that she wanted this more than she’d ever wanted anything.

Quinn’s hands slid around to her back, rubbed soothing circles on her shoulders as he tried to gentle her. “Shh, baby, it’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

But she was beyond gentling, beyond comforting. Her need for him was a wild thing within her and all she could think was more. Now. Please, God, now.

“Quinn,” she gasped, her hips rocking against his in a frenzied rhythm even as she scraped her nails down his back. “Please, Quinn. Please. I need—”

…

Elise’s voice broke and with it, so did his restraint. He’d been trying to be gentle, to be considerate, to make sure she knew what she was getting into. But the moment he heard her voice crack, the moment her nails dug into the muscles of his back, Quinn was a goner.

Twisting his hands in her own hair, he pulled her face back to his. Then he kissed her until he was drowning in her.

Until she was all he could feel or smell or taste.

Until he couldn’t tell where she left off and he began.

Until he was sure she felt the same way.

He wanted her on fire, wanted her burning with the same desire that threatened to burn him alive. He wanted to forget the past and the future, wanted to forget all the mistakes he’d made and all the reasons this could never work between them. He wanted to come inside her with an ache that bordered on obsession, wanted to feel her orgasm against his mouth, his fingers, his cock, until she had nothing left to give him. And then he wanted to take her all over again.

He’d been hungry for her for ten long years and tonight he was going to make up for every second that he’d missed.

He wanted to pull back, to take it slower, to show her how much he wanted her, how beautiful and precious and important he thought she was, but Elise was having none of it. Her hands fisted in his hair, her fingers dug into his scalp and a sharp, shaken cry ripped from her throat.

That cry tore through his control like a freight train, had him fighting back urges so primitive he could barely think, could barely breathe. With a groan, he nipped at her upper lip, before sucking her lower lip between his teeth and biting down on her honeyed softness.

Elise moaned, a wicked, wild sound that shot straight to his dick. Taking advantage of her open lips, he delved deep—taking her mouth the way he was dying to take her body. Licking, sucking, savoring the gorgeous taste of her. The sexy honey and strawberry scent of her. The sweet, musical sound of her gasps as she clutched at him in a desperate attempt to pull him closer.

When he couldn’t take any more, when the need to thrust his tongue inside of her and hear her scream was nearly overwhelming, Quinn pulled away. She moaned and whimpered, fought to keep him where he was. But it wasn’t enough. Not for her and definitely not for him. He wanted to give her more. Wanted to give her everything.

“Lissy, sweetheart, I want more of you.” He shifted just enough so that he could pull her tank top over her head, making sure not to catch her injured arm in the tangle of fabric.

Her bra was pale pink silk, and for a second he just looked at her. She was so beautiful kneeling there, chest heaving and ni**les peaked and hard beneath the soft fabric. He leaned forward and pressed a hot kiss to first one nipple and then the other, his tongue laving at the hard buds through the thin fabric.

She whimpered again, her back arching in a desperate plea for more. He lifted his head, looked at his handiwork. And nearly lost it right there in his jeans. She looked obscene like this, half-undressed, hair wild around her face, wet marks on her bra that had the silk clinging to her nipples.

Quinn groaned, clenched his fists against the need ripping through him. Part of him wanted nothing more than to just stay like this forever, Elise in his lap and her gorgeous body on partial display in front of him.

But his dick had other plans, and, in the end, so did he. He wanted to see her, to find out if her ni**les were still the same dark raspberry color he remembered. So he moved a hand to the back clasp of her bra and unfastened it before pulling it off and tossing it over his shoulder.

She was beautiful. Absolutely exquisite, and for long seconds he could do nothing but stare at her soft, ivory skin, her small, round breasts, her hard, raspberry colored nipples.

Elise let him look, but he could hear her ragged breathing, could feel the way she rocked her hips against his own. She wanted more, needed more, and he wanted to give it to her.

Lowering his head, he ran his tongue over first one nipple and then the other. He teased them, pinched them, licked them, nipped at them, sucked them, until she was all but sobbing his name. And still it wasn’t enough. For either of them.

…

Elise’s heart was beating so fast and hard that she was afraid it would jump right out of her chest. “Quinn, please,” she whispered as she ran her hands over the burning hot skin of his chest. He was making her crazy, bringing her right to the brink of madness—again and again and again—with nothing more than his mouth on her breasts.

“Please what, sweetheart?” He pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses over the curve of her breast. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need—” Her voice broke. “I need you.”

He grinned, a wicked twist of his lips that somehow made him look even hotter. “You’ve got me, baby. I’m right here.”

He went back to her breasts, kissing and licking and nibbling at them until she thought she would go insane. She was hot, needy, aching inside with a desperation she had never felt before. A desperation she never would have imagined existed before this moment.

“I want—”

“What?” Quinn asked, lifting her off of him. “What do you want?”

She whimpered at the loss of sensation—at the loss of him—and he stroked her back reassuringly even as he stood her on her feet.

She was so turned on that her legs felt weak, her knees like jelly, and she would have fallen if Quinn hadn’t been there to hold her up. But he was there, one arm wrapped around her waist while the other pulled her yoga pants and underwear slowly down her legs.

He was watching her, his eyes dark and focused on her own as he stripped her. Almost as if he was waiting for her to protest. But stopping him was the last thing on her mind, not now when she was so close to having him inside of her.

When she was naked, he settled her onto the piano bench, legs spread wide and back resting against the grand piano. Then he sank to his knees in front of her, his broad shoulders pushing her legs open just a fraction more.

Elise froze at the feel of him between her legs, at the knowledge that she was completely exposed to him, completely vulnerable. This wasn’t the first time she’d had sex since Quinn had walked away from her, but it was the first time she’d let herself be this open. The first time she’d given this much of herself to a man. And even though there was a voice in the back of her head telling her to stop, warning her that Quinn would hurt her again, she was helpless to do anything but let him have his way.

She didn’t say a word, but somehow Quinn knew, because he watched her patiently, waiting until she worked up the nerve to look him in the eye. “Is this okay?” he asked, his voice hoarse with restraint and need.

That was all it took to bring her back, to have desire tearing through her all over again. The knowledge that he was as affected by what they were doing as she was. He might be a rock star, with a different woman in his bed every night, but tonight he was hers. Tonight he wanted her, not some nameless groupie.

It was more than enough.

“Yes,” she told him, forcing the word out of her dry throat as she stroked a hand down his cheek.

Quinn smiled at her, a quick, brilliant grin that lit up his whole face and had her reeling. Then he was leaning forward, his tongue lapping gently at her stomach. Stroking her side. Circling her belly button. Slipping lower and lower until he was licking at the top of her mons and she thought surely, surely, he would take her in his mouth.

But just when she thought he would thrust his tongue inside her, just when she thought she was moments from coming, he paused and looked at her with those eyes—those dark, mysterious, magic eyes—and whispered, “Tell me, Elise. Tell me how you like it. Soft and sweet?”

His tongue made one long, lingering foray along the edges of her sex.

“Or hot and hard?” He spiked his tongue, ran it in circles around her clit.

“Slow and deep?” He slipped his hands beneath her hips, tilted her up to his mouth then licked straight down the center of her sex before stabbing his tongue deep inside her.

Elise screamed at the feel of his tongue inside her, moved restlessly against him as she arched, trying to press her hips even closer to his mouth.

“Is that what you like, sweetheart?” Quinn asked, his breath hot and fast against her. “You want my tongue inside you?”

“Yes. Please. Oh, please.” The words slipped out before she had a clue she was going to say them. But she was too far gone to be embarrassed by her eagerness, too desperate for the feel of him to think about anything but the orgasm she could feel gathering deep inside of herself.

Quinn laughed a little, a warm, dark chuckle that sent shivers up her spine. Then he was back, thrusting his tongue inside her, stroking the walls of her va**na with strong, powerful motions that had her eyes all but rolling back in her head. Again and again he licked and stroked and sucked as the need spiraled within her.

But just when she was on the brink of coming—when orgasm called to her like salvation—he pulled away. Left her hanging on the edge without a safety net, every nerve in her body screaming for a relief he refused to give her.

“Quinn! Oh, God, Quinn. I need—” The words were a jumbled mess, hoarse and trembly, but he must have understood because once again he began to lick at her. But this time, it was all slow swirls of his tongue, soft brushes of his lips.

It felt good, so good, and Elise nearly came off the bench in her effort to get closer to him. But he wouldn’t let her take control, wouldn’t let her do anything but sit there and take what he gave her as his big, warm hand pressed against her stomach. Pressed her back into the bench.

As he fluttered his tongue over the lips of her sex, over her clit, a whole new range of sensations began spinning through her. Elise gasped, her fingers clutching at Quinn, the only solid thing in the maelstrom of sensation and emotion ripping through her.

Once again, he took her right to the edge. Once again, he stopped moments before she went crashing over. Grabbing his hair in her hands, so far gone that she barely noticed the twinge in her broken wrist, she tugged sharply then reveled in the groan he couldn’t suppress. “Damn you, do it,” she demanded as her hips rose and fell against his mouth.